


palm to palm

by bratassly



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gabriel Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Human AU, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Human Gabriel (Good Omens), M/M, References to Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 07:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20041837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratassly/pseuds/bratassly
Summary: anathema manages to drag a complaining crowley to a romeo and juliet audition he desperately doesn’t want to attend. he isn’t even going to audition; he hates acting. however, a familiar face convinces him otherwise.i’m bad at summaries don’t @ me





	1. Chapter 1

"No."

"Oh, come on. Don't be so boring."

"There's no way I'm auditioning. Do you even know me?" 

"It'll be fun-"

"Fun? You and I clearly have very different ideas of what's fun."

"Fine, whatever, be like that. But you're driving us." 

"Us?"

"Well, yeah, Newt's coming as well."

Crowley snorted in response, snatching his car keys up off the counter and marching out of the door, not checking to see if Anathema was following him or not. The image of Newton Pulsifer, Anathema's gangly brown-haired boyfriend attempting to achieve anything at all successful was all the convincing Crowley needed to change his mind.

Of course that didn't mean he was happy to go, and he proved so by driving even more fast and recklessly than normal, if that was at all possible, smirking the whole time as Anathema's knuckles turned white from gripping the seat so tightly. 

After driving for a considerably shorter time than the GPS had predicted (because it took speed limits into account, something Crowley didn't believe in), Crowley pulled up outside of a tall building, the words 'New Theatre' engraved boldly into the bricks. 

He sauntered ahead of Anathema, pushing through the doors and finding himself standing in a lobby full of people bustling about and rocking on the balls of their feet nervously. He immediately moved to turn around and walk right back out the way he came in when he was stopped by a tall handsome man, grinning at him in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. 

"Hi, you here for auditions? I'm gonna need you to sign in ove-"

Crowley raised a hand to stop the man speaking, "I'm not-"

Suddenly there was an arm looping through his, "Yes, we are." Anathema smiled excitedly. 

"Here to audition, that is." Newt clarified from her left, his own arm caught in an intimate embrace with Anathema's. 

"Great! If you could just sign here and-"

"I'm not auditioning." Crowley growled, his face set into a moody expression which made him feel childish, not that he cared.

"Oh, but what a shame." A chipper voice called from behind them and Crowley spun around (with some difficulty, considering his arm was still captured by Anathema), and found himself staring into a familiar pair of glistening blue eyes, "Hello, Crowley."

"A-Aziraphale?" Crowley said incredulously. 

A bark of laughter had Crowley spinning around (with some difficulty) again, this time to face the tall handsome man who was making a strange face which somehow managed to consist of raised eyebrows, a frown and a grin all in one.

"Aziraphale? What kind of name is that?" 

"Right, er- an old, old family name." Aziraphale chuckled falsely, "Ah, yes, Crowley, I go by Zira now. Much more hip, modern." 

"Hip?" Crowley scratched the back of his head, wondering if he'd stumbled his way into a strange alternate reality where nothing made sense.

"Yes, much." Azir- Zira smiled. They stood like that for a while; staring at each other, gazes locked. But then Zira cleared his throat and averted his gaze to the desk just behind Crowley, "You auditioning, then?"

"Are you?" Crowley hurried to ask before Anathema could jump in again.

"Oh, no. I'm, uh, I'm the stage director."

Crowley raised an eyebrow at that, "I didn't know you were into directing."

"Nor did I, until I-"

"Until he met me." the man behind Crowley was very quickly getting on Crowley's nerves, "Anyway, if you're auditioning please sign here. We need to speed things up. We have a lot of people to go through, as you can see."

As the man continued to natter away, Crowley watched Aziraphale smile warmly at him before he turned and walked in the opposite direction. Crowley continued to watch him leave until he was out of sight, having slipped into a door which read 'staff only'.

Decision made, Crowley turned around and hastily filled out the short form on the desk, not bothering to consider the possibility that his rushed scrawling was illegible. Then he pushed himself off the desk and wandered into the centre of the room, pointedly ignoring Anathema's satisfied and knowing smirk (not that what she thought she knew was necessarily true) and Newton's lost and confused frown as he trailed after Anathema who followed after Crowley. 

Eventually the tall man from earlier emerged from somewhere and began calling out names before ushering them through a white door. This repeated for roughly 20 minutes before Crowley groaned and dropped to the floor, crossing his legs and taking his sunglasses off, only to rub his eyes tiredly before sliding them back up the bridge of his nose. 

Anathema rolled her eyes at him but no more than 5 minutes passed before she was on the floor as well, leaning against his shoulder with Newt's head in her lap as he lay sprawled across the floor. 

Half an hour later, Anathema's name was called, followed shortly by Newt's and then Crowley was left alone, suddenly feeling oddly stupid sat cross-legged in the middle of a theatre lobby. 

He stood up and brushed his jeans just in time for the white door to open to reveal the tall handsome man.

Crowley nodded in greeting before trudging towards him, trying desperately to not limp. His leg had fallen asleep. The man introduced himself as Gabriel before leading Crowley through the door.

The first thing Crowley noticed when he stepped on the stage was how blinding the lights were, even with his sunglasses on. He raised a hand to shield his eyes and peered into the audience, finding every person previously in the lobby with him staring up at him expectantly.

His eyes moved over to the front row where Aziraphale was sitting, Gabriel to his left and a woman to his right, "Hello, please state your-"

"Hang on," Crowley almost yelled in his struggle to get to the microphone quickly, "I have to audition in front of everyone?"

Crowley stared down at Gabriel, Aziraphale and the woman expectantly but they merely stared up at him blankly.

"But," Crowley gestured with his hands lamely, "They didn't have to. Surely that's an unfair advantage."

"You'll have to perform in front of a few more people than the 100 odd sat here today if you get the part." Gabriel said sarcastically, "Consider this practise."

"But-"

"Please state your name and the role you'll be auditioning for." Gabriel interrupted.

Crowley visibly blanched. He hadn't thought about that. Was he supposed to have prepared for this? What roles were there in Romeo and Juliet other than, well, Romeo and Juliet? 

"Um, Romeo." He said as he leaned toward the microphone, wincing when it made a high pitched noise. 

There was scattered laughter across the audience, "And your name?" 

"Crowley." He mumbled, "I mean, Anthony. Anthony Crowley. Listen, am I meant to have rehearsed something? Because I haven't done that and I don't have a script so I'm not really sure what-"

"You don't have a script?" Gabriel asked incredulously, "Who comes to an audition without a script?"

Crowley shrugged awkwardly, his lips pursed as he glanced around the audience again. A movement just below him caught his eye and when he looked down he saw Aziraphale smiling softly, a sheet of paper extended out towards him. Crowley crouched down to grab the sheet and flipped it over, discovering it was a printout of a section of the script.

He mouthed a small 'thank you' to Aziraphale before standing up and heading back towards the microphone, watching Aziraphale bicker quietly with Gabriel for a while before they fell silent and looked up at Crowley. 

"Go on, then." Gabriel spat, "From line 5." 

Crowley looked down at his script and hesitated. He looked back towards Aziraphale and found the man smiling encouragingly, giving him a small nod when they made eye contact. 

"Right." He mumbled, clearing his throat when the microphone broadcast his mumbling to the audience, "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:" 

He paused, considering how much he wanted this and realising he didn't want this at all. Then he glanced up and found his eyes drawn to Aziraphale. Aziraphale who was still smiling kindly up at him. Aziraphale who was watching him with the most interest and concentration of anyone in the audience. 

Crowley supposed he did want this quite a lot, or rather he wanted the company that came with this. He cleared his throat again and began speaking clearer, trying to portray the emotions he imagine he'd be feeling if he was in Romeo's situation. He definitely didn't imagine Aziraphale as Juliet though. That would be unprofessional, "My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

The next line was for Juliet so he glanced up unsurely, raising an eyebrow in question. He turned to Gabriel, Aziraphale and the woman. The woman nudged Aziraphale and he startled, snatching his gaze away from Crowley to look at the woman. Then he gasped and picked up a sheet from the floor in front of him.

"Right, sorry." He called as his eyes scanned the page before landing on something. Then he spoke, "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

Aziraphale looked back up at him and winked. Crowley's eyebrows shot into his hairline. Azirpahale had winked at him. Shaking his head, Crowley looked back down at the script. Aziraphale had clearly just been indicating that it was his line next. 

He read through the line first and then set his features into a cocky smirk, "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" 

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do." Crowley's eyes flickered up to Aziraphale, "They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at Crowley, a soft, barely there smirk on his lips, "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake." 

Crowley grinned broadly at him, keeping eye contact as he leaned towards the microphone to whisper, "Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take." He paused for a considerable time, tilting his head slightly to the side as he took Aziraphale's attentive expression in, "Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged."

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took."

"Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!" Crowley called dramatically, causing Aziraphale to stifle a giggle. Crowley decided to make that a more regular occurrence, "Give me my sin again."

Aziraphale dropped the sheet he was holding in his laps abruptly and began clapping his hands together enthusiastically, encouraging the people behind him to do so too.

"You may take a seat now." Gabriel called over the polite applause. 

Nodding, Crowley stepped towards the edge of the stage and jumped down.

"Please take the stairs next time." Gabriel said firmly, glaring at Crowley.

Crowley raised an eyebrow in Gabriel's direction and shot him a sarcastic grin, the grin turning more sincere when Aziraphale stifled yet another adorable giggle.

"As I'm sure you're all aware, this show is very last minute so we don't have time to call you all back to reveal who gets the part they auditioned for. You can all sit here quietly for 20 minutes while my colleagues and I discuss." Gabriel gestured down to Azirpahale and the woman, "After that, we will reveal who will be joining the cast and who won't."

Crowley, still stood up, groaned audibly and looked around the audience, heading towards the back when he spotted Anathema and Newt. 

He dropped into the seat just in front of them and pointedly ignored their attempts at communication. From where he sat, he had a rather nice view of Aziraphale from where he sat and he found that the supposed 20 minutes passed much longer than he expected or would have liked. 

The three stood up, Gabriel grabbing a piece of paper from the woman and whispering something to Aziraphale who shook his head rapidly. 

Gabriel cleared his throat loudly, "Alright, if I can have all of your attention. Let's get this done quickly, shall we?"

He began to list the substitute roles first. Anathema was cast as the substitute for Juliet and Crowley couldn't decide whether to be happy for her or annoyed that she hadn't gotten the actual role. 

Next, Gabriel announced the rest of the cast, clearly saving the two main roles for last to build suspense. To Crowley's surprise, Newt had landed a role. However, he was looking forward to teasing Newt, the lucky guy who got to play 'Second Musician'.

Crowley heard a small squeal of excitement to his left and he found he'd missed the name of who would be playing Juliet. Although, taking in the short girl with blonde hair tied into a high ponytail, Crowley found himself not wanting to know her and also suddenly more annoyed that Anathema hadn't received the Juliet role. She suited it more.

"And, last but not least, Romeo will be played by," Gabriel broke off and turned to Aziraphale who stared, straight faced back, "Anthony Crowley."

It took a few sentence for what Gabriel had said to register with him and the second it did, he was turning around to face Anathema and Newt to check if he'd heard right. 

When they'd clapped their hands excitedly at him he turned back around to gape at Aziraphale who's face lit up into a broad smile. 

As everyone began to clear out of the building, Crowley rushed to the front, jogging to catch up with Gabriel, Aziraphale and the woman. When he reached them, he grabbed Aziraphale's elbow and tugged, causing the man to stumble and spin around quickly.

"Sorry, I-" Crowley shook his head, "Are you being serious? Is this a joke?" 

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley's hand still gripping his elbow. Crowley dropped his hand as if he'd been burned and Aziraphale sighed, "Do you not want the part?"

"No! I mean, yes, of course I do. Why else would I have auditioned?"

"Then what's the problem, dear boy?" 

"I just- are you sure?"

Aziraphale frowned at him, "Yes, I'm sure. I wouldn't have picked you if I wasn't." 

Crowley nodded slowly, "Right." He took a tentative step backwards, "Sorry."

He turned on his heel and walked away, gesturing for Anathema and Newt to follow him.

"Goodbye, Crowley." Aziraphale called.

Crowley glanced over his shoulder and found Aziraphale stood in the same place as he'd left him, "Bye."

"How do you know him?" Anathema whispered harshly as they exited through the same door they'd entered. 

Crowley waved his hand in the air dismissively, "Just an old friend."

Anathema continued to nag him for details as they made their way towards Crowley's car. Crowley rushed to set his car's radio loud enough to drown out Anathema's voice before Newt could catch on and join in. 

Before Crowley could speed away after dropping Anathema off at her house, the girl had yelled a date that Crowley could only assume was the day they'd start rehearsing.

___________

When Crowley returned to the theatre on the date that Anathema had called to him as he sped away, he found that many of the seats in front of the stage were already occupied and there were a few people on the stage, including Aziraphale.

The man had a pair of white angel wings attached to his back and he was currently gesturing excitedly at the woman Crowley recognised as Juliet. 

Raising an eyebrow and silently debating with himself whether to announce his presence or not, Crowley watched Aziraphale march towards a tall white box, the wings swinging from side to side behind him. He disappeared behind the box and a few seconds later he was stood on top of it, holding on to pole that ran up the side of the box. He stood there for a moment, peering up into the lights, muttering to himself as he made sure everything was in order. 

From this angle, Crowley could see the light bouncing off platinum blond curls and his eyes seemed to be glowing. Those eyes reflected the light in the most perfect way that Crowley was almost convinced it was actually the bulbs that were reflecting the light coming from within Aziraphale's eyes, not the other way around. Said eyes suddenly flickered over in his direction and then met his gaze straight on, Crowley watching in disbelief as Aziraphale's whole face lit up in such a way it seemed as though it was trying to outdo his eyes. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale's yell caused every head in the room to swivel round in Crowley's direction.

Crowley raised two fingers to his forehead and saluted Aziraphale, glad to have his sunglasses on so the people in the room couldn't see the bewildered look in his eyes in response to having so many gazes trained on him. He began to make his way onto the stage when Aziraphale gestured for him to do so before disappearing behind the box again.

"You're late." Aziraphale said once Crowley had made it to the stage to find Aziraphale standing at the centre, "We were supposed to meet at 10am sharp. It's 3pm!" 

Crowley shrugged in response, glancing around the audience again to spot Anathema and Newt who were staring at him with amused expressions, "Sorry?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is you're here now and we mustn't waste any time dilly-dallyi-"

"Where you wearing those wings?" Crowley pointed vaguely in their direction.

"Oh, right, um" Crowley raised an amused eyebrow as a prominent blush rose to Aziraphale's cheeks, "Well, I was simply giving Bonnie here an example of how she could perform her lines."

Crowley turned to Bonnie and found the woman who had been cast as Juliet looking annoyed as she stared at him with crossed arms.

"Anyway," Aziraphale cleared his throat, "We'll only have enough time to do one scene today since you were so late. Act 1, Scene 5; same one we did in the auditions. Here's your script." 

Aziraphale thrust the script into his arms so abruptly Crowley nearly dropped it. He frowned at Aziraphale who simply frowned back before gesturing for him to read.

Shaking his head, Crowley flicked through a few pages as a man behind him began reading his own lines in a booming voice that was definitely too loud. He finally landed a page titled Act 1, Scene 5 and his eyes skimmed the page to find his first line in the scene.

"What lady is that which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?" Crowley asked, glancing around stage to try find the 'servingman' who would be speaking next.

The man was stood just to his left. He had scraggly blonde hair and was just ever so slightly shorter than Crowley, "I know not, sir."

He then spun on his heel and rushed off stage, Crowley blinking after him. He glanced to Aziraphale who was watching him intently, the angel wings still hanging over his shoulders. Crowley smirked as he read his next line before looking up and gesturing to Aziraphale.

"Oh, Zira doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems he hangs upon the chee-" 

Aziraphale's hand suddenly fell on Crowley's script and Crowley raised his eyes to see the man blushing again as he attempted to put an end to the audience's giggling. 

"Alright, alright. Very funny, ha ha." Aziraphale glared at Crowley, although the effect was lost beneath the man's soft smile. 

"Sorry angel- uh, I mean Azira- Zira." Crowley batted his eyelashes innocently, grinning broadly when Aziraphale covered his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes before shrugging off the angel wings and passing them over to Bonnie who mouthed an aggressive thank you before slipping them over her own shoulders. She moved to stand just in front of Crowley and to the right as Aziraphale gestured for him to continue.

Crowley picked up where he had left off, "It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night, like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear. Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear." 

The following two hours passed by rather quickly once they had gotten into the flow of things and by the end they had managed to complete three scenes, rather than the original one Aziraphale had predicted. Although, Crowley reckoned Aziraphale had just been exaggerating for dramatic purposes. 

Crowley volunteered to help tidy up the stage and glared threateningly at anyone who raised their hand to do so too. Eventually everyone cleared off and left Aziraphale and Crowley alone.

They worked in silence for a while, Aziraphale picking up any forgotten scripts while Crowley wheeled the few set decorations they'd used backstage. However, Aziraphale rushed to help him with the white box he had previously stood on top of, insisting that Crowley shouldn't move it alone. 

When they returned from backstage, the stage was clear and Crowley felt an odd sense of regret. Regret for what exactly, he wasn't sure. Perhaps regret for tidying things up so quickly, or regret at not engaging Aziraphale in conversation while they worked.

He glanced over to the man in question and found the light bouncing off platinum curls yet again. From this close, Crowley could see that Aziraphale's bright eyes were a beautiful but simple shade of blue that seemed to challenge the picturesque view of the sun reflecting upon the ocean surface. Crowley decided that when the stage lights hit Aziraphale's eyes just right, his eyes won. 

Apparently he'd been staring too long because suddenly Aziraphale was looking back at him, a confused look on his face. 

"Y'know," Crowley began, thrusting his hands into his pockets and edging closer to Aziraphale, "I think you suit those wings better than Bonnie."

Of course Crowley had said that to see Aziraphale blush and giggle again, but that didn't mean he didn't think it was true. 

"You have quite strange tastes, dear boy."

Crowley shook his head, a fond smile on his lips and an alarming feeling of warmth creeping into his chest. He took another step forward, "I don't think so. I bet if you asked anyone, they'd say you suited them better. You looked rather angelic." 

Aziraphale chuckled quietly and ducked his head, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck, "Angelic?"

"Yep." Crowley said, popping the 'p' and shuffling closer still.

"Well, with your sunglasses and your incredibly tight jeans, I dare say you look a tad bit demonic." Aziraphale's eyes widened when he realised what he had said, "I meant that as a compliment, I really did." 

A bark of laughter exploded out of Crowley and it startled not only Aziraphale, but himself too. Crowley couldn't remember ever laughing like that before. He moved closer, "You think my jeans are tight, huh?"

"Oh, hush you." Aziraphale muttered before falling eerily silent. Crowley's face was now no more than five inches away from Aziraphale's, their toes almost touching. 

Crowley swallowed thickly, "Have not saints lips?"

Aziraphale's eyes widened and darted up to meet his own. When the man spoke his throat sounded dry, "Lips that they must use in prayer."

"Oh, then, dear angel, let lips do what hands do." 

Now that he was even closer, Crowley could see flickers of brown and specs of what looked like, but quite certainly couldn't be, honey swimming in Aziraphale's eyes. Those eyes were entrancing, and the man even more so. 

He waited patiently for Aziraphale to say his line but it never came. Crowley was just about to question the man when he suddenly stepped forward, cupped Crowley's face in his hands and brought their lips together. 

The kiss was probably the most innocent and pure exchange that Crowley had ever experienced and it was somehow everything he expected but also nothing at all like he had dreamt. 

Just as abruptly as it had happened, the kiss ended and Aziraphale pulled away, although Crowley noted there was now a considerably smaller space between them.

They stood in silence for a while, breathing heavily and staring at each other, as though they were waiting to see how the other would react.

Aziraphale's eyebrow crooked up questioningly and Crowley smirked. He stepped forward and lifted a hand to grip Aziraphale's chin between his thumb and forefinger, somehow leaning in even closer so their lips only barely touched.

"Give me my sin again." He whispered against Aziraphale's lips. 

The man let out a desperate whine and reached up to grab two fistfuls of Crowley's shirt, pulling him impossibly closer and crashing their lips together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is set like,, a week after the first chapter.

Crowley's arm was numb. He blinked blearily against the bright light filtering in through the curtains and brought his free hand up to rub at his eye. Then he looked down to his numb arm which was trapped beneath something.

Grinning, Crowley reached across to move a stray lock of hair out of the something's perfectly blue eyes which were already staring back up at him.

"Morning." Aziraphale mumbled, his voice sounding rough.

Before answering, Crowley shuffled closer until their foreheads were touching and shut his eyes, "Hi."

Crowley felt rather than heard Aziraphale's small chuckle before the man leaned closer and connected their lips. Crowley hummed and moved to deepen the kiss, gripping Aziraphale's waist. 

But the man pulled away, patted the hand on his waist and rolled out of the bed, "We're going to be late."

"For what?" Crowley groaned, rubbing the arm that was previously trapped beneath Aziraphale.

"The sonnet reading." 

Crowley watched Aziraphale patter about the bedroom for a while before eventually standing to his feet with a displeased groan. He picked his shirt up off the floor and tugged it on over his head before pulling his jeans on as well.

Then he collapsed back on the bed and shut his eyes briefly. No more than 2 minutes later, Crowley was yanked up by his hand, stumbling into Aziraphale who wrapped his arms around his waist and laughed quietly. 

Crowley dropped his head to Aziraphale's shoulder and wrapped his arms around the man's neck, humming happily as Aziraphale began to sway them from side to side.

"We need to leave." Aziraphale murmured against his shoulder, trying to pull away and finding himself trapped. He let out a breathy laugh and pushed at Crowley's chest, "Crowley."

__________

"You're late." Gabriel glowered from his position on the stage.

"Yeah, yeah." Crowley waved a hand dismissively from behind Aziraphale who was dragging him along by their connected hands, "We got caught up doing something."

Aziraphale paused only to slap Crowley's chest as a few people snickered in response to his suggestive tone, before continuing to pull Crowley down the aisle until they reached the stage. 

Gabriel was stood with his arms crossed over his chest when they arrived on stage, "You two are meant to be reading first. We've wasted a whole half hour waiting for yo-" 

"And I think we've lost about, what? Like, a day in total that's been wasted by you being a whining little bi-" 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale interrupted before turning to Gabriel, "I'm very sorry. But, let's begin and not waste any more time, yes?"

Gabriel have a quick nod before stomping off the stage and to his seat at the front, shooting a harsh glare in Crowley's direction as he walked past.

Aziraphale shot a warning glance at Crowley who rolled his eyes in response. Then Aziraphale dropped his hand and stepped towards the front of the stage, "Okay, Crowley and I have each memorised a sonnet and we are going to be performing them to give you all an example. Afterwards you can all pick your own printed copy from the pile down there and give it a go." 

There were a few agreeing murmurs across the audience and then Aziraphale gestured for Crowley to step back. He did so, moving to the front of the stage before dropping to the floor and sitting cross legged. He set his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his hands before grinning up at Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale gave him an amused smile before clearing his throat and beginning to recite the sonnet he'd memorised, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: rough winds do shake the darling buds of May."

Crowley tilted his head to the side and sighed deeply, examining the way Aziraphale gestured with his arms and hands in practised, carefully considered movements. He did everything with purpose and seemed to be already thinking of what his next words or action would be two steps before they were due. Crowley wasn't like that. Not at all. 

"-hance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; but thy eternal summer shall not fade."

Aziraphale had spent most of his performance sneaking glances at Crowley but now he looked at him straight on and quirked an eyebrow. Crowley mimicked him and winked, watching fondly as the man blushed and turned away from him, stammering slightly over his words for the first time since he'd began.

"Why- when in e-eternal lines to time thou growest: so long as men can breathe our- or eyes can see, so long lives this." Aziraphale paused, breathing in deeply before speaking in a bright and clear voice, "and this gives life to thee."

Polite applause broke the silence and Aziraphale clapped his own hands together awkwardly, shuffling from foot to foot and not knowing how to react. Crowley chuckled and stood to his feet, stepping forward to sling an arm across Aziraphale's shoulders. 

Aziraphale leaned against him briefly before standing up straight and stepping away, gesturing for Crowley to begin reciting his own sonnet.

Making eye contact, Crowley held Aziraphale's gaze as he slowly pulled a messily folded sheet of paper out of his back pocket and unfolding it. Once it was held in both of his hands he dropped Aziraphale's gaze and began to read out loud, "When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state."

He glanced up to find Aziraphale staring at him with an annoyed expression. Crowley couldn't help the smirk that spread across his lips. It was too easy to get on the man's nerves. Why would Crowley memorise his sonnet when he could simply turn up on the day, read the words off a sheet and simultaneously annoy Aziraphale? Somehow the man was even more adorable than normal when he was annoyed.

"Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, haply I think on thee, and then my state, like to the lark at break of day arising." 

Crowley could still feel Aziraphale's gaze lingering on him so he glanced up and raised both of his eyebrow at him, smiling softly when Aziraphale blanched and turned his face away and pretended to survey the audience. 

He shook his head fondly and his next words sounded foreign to his own ears as they seemed so happy and carefree, moulded by the contented smile Aziraphale had put upon his lips, "For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings that then I scorn to change my state with kings."

Similar polite applause that had awarded Aziraphale's finish greeted Crowley's silence and then Gabriel was on stage again, ushering both of them off stage. 

"Right, yes, that was great. Splendid. You can all come to the front now where there's a selection of-" 

Crowley didn't listen to the rest of what Gabriel had to say. He didn't suppose it was anything important or remotely interesting. Instead, he watched the back of Aziraphale's head as he trailed after the man who was leading him to some seats.

"I thought we could sit with your friends." Aziraphale smiled warmly, gesturing to Anathema and Newt. 

Anathema grinned in wicked excitement while Newt just waved. Crowley groaned; he'd been avoiding Anathema all week since the very first rehearsal. His friend had made the assumption that something had happened between he and Aziraphale and, while she was right in thinking so, Crowley shuddered at the idea of admitting this to her face. 

"What's up, love birds." Anathema cooed, patting the seat next to her.

Crowley pushed past Aziraphale so he drop down into the seat before Aziraphale could, regretting it the second he noticed the man's disgruntled expression. But then he glanced to his right and found Anathema's wicked grin still hadn't left her face and any regret he'd had suddenly vanished. 

"Oh, so Crowley told you."

Crowley's head whipped round to stare, wide eyed at Aziraphale who sat with a carefree smile. Crowley blinked once, twice, then he turned back round to face Anathema who was doing the same thing.

She gathered herself quickly though and said; "Told me what?" 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to answer before shutting it. He opened and closed his mouth like this a few times before he turned to Crowley to repeat the action at him. 

Any other time, Crowley would've lost it at the sight of Aziraphale unintentionally doing a rather good impression of a fish, but now was not the time for hysterics. Or maybe it was; Crowley snorted and dropped his chin to his chest, his shoulders shaking as he tried to get himself under control. 

When he glanced back up, Aziraphale was frowning at him. And Crowley was suddenly very aware of how close they were and how unnecessarily far Aziraphale had leaned in his direction, his hand resting on Crowley's arm rest. Crowley also noted how he could feel Aziraphale's breath puffing across his own lips and he also noted that if he were to lean just an inch or so forward, he could place a delicate kiss upon Aziraphale's nose and get a bright, pleased smile in response. 

Naturally, Crowley's brain short-circuited anytime Aziraphale was remotely close to him so Crowley couldn't see any negative to making his previous noticing come true. Therefore, his leaning forward and pressing a quick peck to Aziraphale's nose was entirely unintentional and he could not be blamed for it at all. 

Anathema seemed to think otherwise as she suddenly squealed, "Crowley, you big softie!"

Crowley's eyes widened as he remembered where they were and he sat back, his chest warming briefly at the sight of Aziraphale's happy smile (just as he had predicted), before he was turning to face his friend, "What?"

"I said you're a big softie. Who knew?" Anathema laughed and turned to Newt, "Did you know?" 

The man shrugged and looked back down at his sheet of paper. 

"I'm not soft." Crowley murmured, rolling his eyes at Aziraphale who was nodding at Anathema in agreement.

Anathema sighed dreamily, "I bet you guys recite poetry to each other. That's so cute." 

"We don't recite poetry to each other." Crowley huffed, bringing his arms up to cross over his chest and slumping further down into his chair.

Aziraphale placed a hand on his thigh and grinned at Anathema, "No, we recite Romeo and Juliet scenes to each other." 

Anathema cackled loudly and Aziraphale joined in, clearly finding the whole situation a lot more amusing than Crowley. 

"I hate you both." Crowley grumbled, though his complaints were ignored in favour of Aziraphale sharing every little detail which proved Crowley's supposed softness. 

Just as Aziraphale was getting to the part where Crowley always made sure Aziraphale had enough of the duvet cover when they shared a bed, Crowley sat up abruptly and slammed his hands against his arm rests.

"Alright, enough. We get it, we all get it." Crowley gestured around the auditorium, "I'm soft for Aziraphale, whatever. Who isn't?"

"That's probably the best thing I've ever heard you say." Anathema smirked before turning serious, "But really Crowley, I am happy for you. I don't know how serious this is considering you've been together, what, a week? But I still-"

Crowley raised a hand, blocking her face from his view, "You're just jealous because we're adorable and you and Newt are mediocre at best."


End file.
